


Not Really

by Capucine



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Between Seasons/Series, Brothers, Family Drama, Gen, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 18:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6482623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capucine/pseuds/Capucine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick has to keep the new Robin from getting himself killed...and he's not getting attached.</p>
<p>He can't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Really

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda fuffy? But also sad. Set in between seasons, and the scene is a battle thing.

Jason was pretty fucking terrible at accepting help. And Dick did not curse lightly.

The boy, skinny-legged and sprawled on the ground like he'd been thrown there, head ducking and weaving of its own accord as he partially came to, was doing exactly what Dick had not expected. Completely refusing help.

"Nnn tch me," Jason complained when he came close, which was pretty easy to understand as 'Don't touch me.' 

Dick chose to pretend he didn't understand.

Instead, he crouched down next to him and got a look at his head, touching his scalp to turn it and see the split skin. Jason, however, growled and swiped at him, a rather feeble attempt with poor aim.

“I’m checking your head. Did you want to die?” Dick said, holding his head more firmly, keeping his body a shield between the boy and the fight going on. In action was a bad place to have a head injury, after all.

“Wlkt ffff…” Jason groaned, trying to stand despite the fact his legs clearly weren’t cooperating.

It made Dick a bit incredulous that Jason was claiming he could just walk it off when he couldn’t even speak properly. He held more firmly to Jason’s head and the back of his neck, and the thirteen year old was being a moron who should not have been passed for their mandatory first aid training because he tried to wrench his head free, letting out a squeaky groan/whine sound. And trying to kick Dick, at least presumably, that was his intention.

His foot kind of hiccupped up before it fell back feebly, nowhere near Dick.

“Stay still,” Dick said sternly, able to tell that there was definite damage. He probably had a concussion, and the back of his head was sticky with blood.

The stern voice, however, had the opposite effect.

Jason let out a sort of wail or scream, angry and raspy all at once, flailing at him and nearly bowling himself over. That was about when it became less of an annoyance and way more of a potentially fatal liability.

So Dick scooped him up, the boy being significantly smaller than him since he was three years younger, and fled the scene. Jason might have tried to fight him, a scream escaping from him that sounded like an angry protest, but Dick was focused on getting him the fuck out of there—danger to life overrode the danger of moving someone with a head injury.

M’gann covered his retreat.

He’d have to thank her later—and make Jason apologize.

Jason was skinny and felt cold even through his uniform—he’d probably beef up if he lived long enough. With how this was going, though, Dick wasn’t optimistic.

They made it to a spot out of the action, and Jason was saying something about not needing something, it wasn’t clear—but he was clearly willing to back it up with shaky, fumbling fists.

And now that they were out of immediate danger, Dick swiftly removed the new Robin’s cape, and bundled it against the head wound, allowing Jason to hit him. It hardly hurt. “Hey. Calm down.”

“No, nnno, nnnn…”Jason seemed to still be having difficulty speaking, and Dick carefully peeled off his mask, getting a look at his eyes.

They were clearly full of fear, confusion, fury—at being afraid and confused. Like he wasn’t supposed to be ever again and the promise had been broken.

He also seemed to have a concussion, though Dick double checked with a flashlight—yes, for sure.

Jason blinked hard at the bright light. 

And Dick realized he wasn’t exactly doing the best he could for the vital part of such injuries—calming the victim. And he really should, especially given Jason was his _brother_.

He peeled off his mask, so Jason could know it was him, see his eyes. “Hey, Jaybird, you’re okay. You’re safe.”

Jason seemed to start to accuse him of lying, words horribly jumbled, and so Dick carefully thumbed away some of the tear streaks on his face. His face was surprisingly warm compared to the rest of his body, and this gentle action seemed to stop Jason in his tracks.

“You’re okay. You’re safe,” Dick repeated, and Jason’s eyes darted to his arms, watching him almost nervously, but in a different way.

And Dick hoped he was reading him right, because what he did next would make or break calming Jason down. With one hand still holding the cape in place, he very gently pulled Jason in, almost in his lap (if Jason weren’t too big to be held like a baby or small child) and wrapped the arm around him. Jason was chilly and trembling.

“I got you. You’re safe. I promise.”

Jason seemed to take a moment to process, to accept. And he seemed to conclude he at least needed the body heat, because he pressed surprisingly close.

And that solved the problem, Dick told himself. Jason wouldn’t keep trying to move, was calm, and was being kept warm until help could arrive. The blood seemed to have stopped flowing as well.

It was hardly that simple, his gut kept telling him. He cared about Jason now. He had attached. The new Robin, at first regarded with distrust and an uneasy feeling, had wormed his way into Dick’s heart. 

He shoved that feeling down. He was only caring for a teammate. It would validate Bruce’s choices to attach to Jason for real, and he couldn’t do that.

The release of a breath against his arm, just barely able to be felt, made him swallow hard and know it was otherwise.

Jason stayed safe and reasonably content with him until help arrived—until Bruce himself lifted Jason and carried him to the ship, where he could be properly treated.

Jason’s green, dazed eyes stayed on Dick anyway, an almost question in them.

Dick wasn’t sure he could answer that question.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay complicated family shit?


End file.
